


Why to Wear a Scarf

by prompt_fills



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Blink And You Miss It Slash, Drabble, Drabble Sequence, Episode: s02e02 An Ordinary Man, Implied Slash, M/M, Shippy Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Times the Musketeers Found Usages for Athos' Scarf + One Time Athos Got Creative, 6x100 drabble</p><p>Written for <a href="http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/"><b>BBC Musketeers Kink</b></a>, Round 3, <a href="http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/2286.html?thread=3063790#cmt3063790"><i>for this prompt</i>.</a><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Why to Wear a Scarf

 

 

-

The chill of the night was creeping through the wide gap between the window and its frame. Aramis drew the shortest stick and had to sleep on the floor. He put his palms to the back of his neck, trying to keep himself a little warmer.

“Stop tossing!”

“It’s so damn cold down here,” Aramis murmured. The draft was ruffling his hair.

Porthos got up, crossing the room to the pile of Athos’ clothes. He picked the scarf, opened the window and stuffed the scarf to the bottom of the frame. Then he forced the window closed again. “Better?”

“Thanks.”

 

 

-

The girl kept shaking as they safely lead her to her home.

“I’ll be forever thankful to you,” she whispered at her doorstep, giving Aramis a wobbly smile. “If you didn’t–”

Aramis caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, silencing her. “I hope the next time we see each other the circumstances will be more favourable.”

The other musketeers rolled their eyes but the girl blushed, fumbling to take off the coat and the scarf that were keeping her warm.

Aramis took them from her, tossing the scarf to Athos with a grin.

 

 

-

D’Artagnan’s heart was pounding but his mind remained clear and focused. The sound of a sword being drawn made him regret he didn’t have his own.

 _No need to tear my shirt,_ d’Artagnan thought, hurrying down the slope, reaching his hand to Athos’ neck.

His “May I?” was an afterthought, his fingers were already gripping the scarf. The look in Athos’ eyes assured him that he needn’t have asked.

He yanked at the scarf, wrapping it around his right hand. It was warm to the touch. He turned to the horseman, squaring his shoulders.

_Please don’t let there be any blood._

 

 

-

“I’m asking you one last time,” Athos said, his voice perfectly calm, “where is the letter?”

The man squirmed in his chair but the ropes hold him tight. There was no answer.

“Fine,” Athos grunted and nodded at Porthos.

Porthos stretched, his spine cracking, and strode forward to the captured man, grinning down at him.

Aramis sighed, propping his legs on the table in front of him and closing his eyes. “This is going to hurt,” he offered quietly.

Porthos paused. “You think he’ll scream?”

“Just gag him,” d’Artagnan advised, bored.

Athos was already unwrapping the scarf from his neck.

 

 

-

“Aramis? You wished to see me?” D’Artagnan called, pushing into the door. Upon entering the room, a bullet whistled above d’Artagnan’s head.

D’Artagnan managed to stay calm. “An arquebus?”

“I’m going to make you the next best marksman,” Aramis’ smile was _wicked_ but d’Artagnan knew his friend would never hurt him.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Step closer, for starters.”

With more bravado than he felt, d’Artagnan stepped forward to meet Aramis.

“I need you to be blindfolded,” Aramis huffed. Then a familiar scent surrounded d’Artagnan and he closed his eyes against the fabric pressed to his eyes.

 

 

+

“Hold still,” Athos murmured against d’Artagnan’s neck. “Or I’ll have to tie you up.”

D’Artagnan’s breath hitched. “Would you?”

Athos drew back to take a look at d’Artagnan’s face. “Really?” His voice rose in disbelief and d’Artagnan felt colour rush to his cheeks.

Not trusting his voice, d’Artagnan silently brought his hands up and above his head, crossing his wrists and holding them against the headboard.

“...death of me,” Athos muttered, securing d’Artagnan’s wrists together with a precise skilfulness that made d’Artagnan shiver.

With a jolt, d’Artagnan realized he’d really have to hold still so the delicate scarf wouldn’t tear.


End file.
